Send In the Clones
by Naia Zifu
Summary: This fic started out as a dream, then a comic book script, now it's a fanfic I'm hoping for inspiration to finish. . .review kindly
1. The Rebirth

Send In the Clones  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter One: The Rebirth  
  
_Merry merry Christmas, happy happy Christmas, merry merry Christmas  
and Happy New Year..._  
The music was happy and upbeat, well in keeping with my mood that  
morning. I was just completing work on an article about "Newspace," though  
I still didn't quite understand where or even what it was supposed to be,  
even after having researched it as far as I could and having interviewed  
nearly everyone who claimed to have been there. It still seemed rather like  
a mass-hallucination to me, and I said as much in my writing.  
"I'm waiting for Santa Claus, he's riding on a bison sleigh. I'm  
waiting for a Christmas gift, I want to get a spaceship..."  
I hadn't even noticed I was singing until I heard laughter from the  
doorway. I felt my face redden and stopped immediately.  
"Ah, 'Space Christmas'-- truly one of the great holiday classics,"  
teased Quelt'san, a fatuous smile playing across his handsome face.  
Trying to sound angry, I demanded, "Did you come just to torment me,  
or is there some particular _reason_ for your being here?"  
"Is that any way to treat the bearer of glad tidings?" he laughed.  
"I just thought you'd want to know that the clones have finally reached  
full maturity, and they escaped Ghoti Neogenics Labs during the night."  
"Oh, that _is_ good news."  
Coming to my desk and leaning in to read over my shoulder, he  
reminded me, "Yes, my love, but you know Ghoti will be searching for them.  
I sent out a detail as soon as I learned of their escape. I only hope our  
men find the clones before _they_ do."  
"They will," I answered with more certainty than I felt.  
"Quelt'san, I'd like to be the first to talk with the clones once they've  
arrived."  
"Usai," he said absently, immersed in his reading. "Naia, what is  
this 'Newspace?' I know the individual words, but I don't think I've seen  
them used together that way before."  
I tried to explain, "Newspace is a phenomenon purportedly caused by  
the Invid transubstantiation... a different dimension, I suppose, where  
whatever one thinks of comes into existence... Toiisa, I don't know how to  
explain it any better than that."  
"Sounds a little like that old Star Trek movie we saw last week."  
"Sort of..."  
"You don't believe in Newspace, do you?" Quelt'san noticed.  
"Not really..."  
"I can tell." He indicated the computer monitor. "This article of  
yours is brutal."  
"Thank you. Now I have only to proofread for typos, and then I'll  
be finished."  
He smiled. "I'm glad. You know, I've hardly even seen you all  
week. I missed you."  
"Does this help?" I asked playfully, kissing him with an ardour  
_stored up_ for a week.  
"It's a beginning..."  
  
My hands shook so that I could hardly fasten the jacket of my  
cerise officer's uniform. Why was I so nervous? They _were_ only clones,  
after all...  
Nonconformist that I am, I'd always hated the idea of uniforms. But  
being T'sentrati, I of course felt much more comfortable in one. The  
miniature replicas were easy enough to acquire, and specialty shops were  
inundated with requests from micronised warriors who, like me, felt somehow  
_less T'sentrati_ out of uniform.  
I took a moment to scrutinise my appearance in the full-length  
mirror, finding it adequate, and tried not to fidget as I started for the  
interrogation room where the clones were being temporarily detained.  
I had never met the original Khyron and Azonia, but over the years I  
had watched every available piece of footage, read nearly every word ever  
written about them, and indeed had written quite a bit myself. There was  
something rather _Shakespearean_ about their relationship, something both  
tragic and romantic, that still fascinated me even after so many years. I  
wondered how much of that had survived to be reborn into the clones? Did  
they have any sense of their archetypes at all?  
"You're fidgeting," observed Quelt'san.  
"Toiisa," I apologised. "I hadn't noticed."  
"Try to relax," he advised. "They _are_ only clones, after all,  
remember?"  
"So are we..."  
"You know what I mean. Naia, you know more about the _real_ Khyron  
and Azonia than almost anyone. I don't see how you could feel so  
intimidated by mere clones."  
"Tokko... You're right, of course." He usually was.  
"And I'll be right beside you the whole time in case you need moral  
support," he promised.  
"Thank you." I kissed him, tattooing his lips with my "transfer-  
resistant" red lipstick, then took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind.  
"Okay, I think I'm ready now."  
"T'sen Laplamis! T'sen Kravshera! _Or reasonable facsimiles  
thereof..._" I announced, giving a half-hearted T'sentrati salute.  
"Tan yar!" demanded Azonia's clone.  
Pulling myself up to seem as tall as possible, I replied, "Jhiri tan  
T'sentrati Naia Zifu, formerly captain of the thuverl-salan _Isa Tanari,_ of  
the Quadrono Battalion."  
"Captain Zifu?" she repeated. "The _odd_ one?"  
I couldn't have been more pleased. The clone seemed to have  
Azonia's memories. And what's more, it seemed she had _heard_ of me.  
"The very same," I answered proudly. "My reputation precedes me...  
I must say I'm flattered. So then you _do_ retain memories of your prior  
existence? Intruiging."  
Khyron's clone spoke up. "This world is quite unlike any of those  
memories. For how long have we been dead?"  
"It's been forty years since the deaths of the _real_ Khyron and  
Azonia," I told them. "Earth has survived attacks by the Masters and the  
Invid, and has since returned to a prosperity it hadn't known for centuries.  
There is no more protoculture anywhere in the quadrant. Consequently, the  
Shapings have ceased, and the age of Robotechnology has passed forever.  
There hasn't even been a major _war_ on Earth in fifteen years."  
"How _boring..._ So why in the name of Haydon have you brought us  
here?"  
"Do you know what Ghoti would have done to you if we _hadn't?_"  
"I am not afraid to die," he snapped. "I am _T'sentrati._ I  
_welcome_ death with open arms." The clone spread his arms wide in  
demonstration, chuckling dementedly.  
"I'm afraid it isn't so simple, _clone,_" I said with a pretentious  
laugh. "Had Ghoti been allowed to recapture you, you would have been  
subjected to a fate _far worse_ than death."  
The clone wondered, "So what exactly is our purpose in this  
_frightfully boring_ future world?"  
"Come now, you're a bright enough lad-- I'm sure you'll be able to  
think of _something,_" I said condescendingly.  
"So you've got a _sense of humour,_" he observed happily. "Quite a  
rare quality among our people. But then, you _do_ seem to be quite the  
bundle of anomalies, don't you?"  
I took that as the compliment it seemed to have been intended as.  
"What is this place?" wondered the Azonia clone.  
I was glad to explain. "Our city is called 'Baza Godai'-- pun  
_intended._ 'It was meant to be an oasis of peace for humans and T'sentrati  
alike,' _or some such rot..._ The first Godaians settled here from  
_underground,_ eager for the sunshine and fresh air of the surface again. I  
promised a dentalla-intao I'd watch out for them. Emigrants, displaced by  
the Invid War and in need of food and shelter, began to arrive by the  
truckload, and of course I couldn't just turn them away... At last census,  
we numbered close to a hundred thousand."  
"Is there any particular reason your city looks like _Macross?_"  
"That wasn't my idea," I asserted. "It was merely a condition  
insisted upon by my _eccentric_ dentalla."  
Quelt'san stifled a laugh. _Who was I to call anyone eccentric?_ I  
glared at him angrily.  
Azonia's clone sighed. "This new life is certainly going to take  
some getting used to..."  
"Tokko," I said sympathetically. "Toiisa. If you two would  
like to be left alone for a while to talk it over..."  
"Usai."  
  
"Negronta _micronians_ can't do _anything_ right," I complained,  
feeling so angry that I punched the wall as hard as I could. My hand was  
hurt more than the wall but I refused to show it.  
" 'Humans,' Naia," Quelt'san reminded me. "You mean about the  
clones?"  
"They aren't at all what I expected. I thought they would be... I  
don't know... more dangerous? But these clones actually seem _friendly._  
Ugh. The least they can do is form some _evil plot_ or something..."  
Quelt'san looked confused. "You _want_ them to be evil? After some  
thirty-five years of trying to convince the world that Khyron and Azonia  
were heroes, you're disappointed because their clones seem nice?"  
To hear him put it that way, it _did_ sound rather silly...  
"Okay, I'll stop complaining... I was just thinking, maybe there  
_is_ something positive about this. If they're friendly clones who remember  
their archetypes, perhaps they'll consent to a series of interviews."  
"You think so, eh? I must admit, it _would_ be nice to finally know  
what made Khyron Kravshera tick..."  
  
  
  
©1996-1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Written originally in script  
form, changed to narrative a bit later. My apologies for all the material  
left out in the switch to first-person and narrative. Illegal T'sentrati  
words were removed when the change to narrative occurred, but replaced for  
electronic use. Robotech and all borrowed ideas (and basis for the clones'  
characters) are trademarked by Harmony Gold. Again I am not trying to  
infringe on any trademarks or copyrights, or profit from anyone else's  
ideas. 


	2. Aliens

Send In the Clones  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Two: Aliens  
  
"You took them to the _T'sentrati Museum?_ Oh boy. How'd _that_  
go?" Kaeisuan asked, holding his year-old daughter, Dhan, on his lap, the   
child trying her best to pull his long blue hair.  
That my son had married a human and had those half-breed children  
didn't bother me much anymore. Initially I had been opposed to their union,   
but with time I actually began to _like_ Tracey. I realised she was really  
very kind and sincere, and had genuine feelings for Kaeisuan. I knew she   
could make him happy, and that was all that mattered. And I couldn't   
dislike those children of theirs if I tried. Though they were only half-  
T'sentrati, they were wholly adorable. Before I knew it I'd become the   
doting grandmother I'd sworn I would never be.   
"I told them they didn't have to go if they weren't ready," I   
explained. "But they insisted. They were perfectly fine until the end..."  
"Yeah... the _bones_..."  
"They were understandably upset. I mean, that was the moment it   
finally sunk in that they weren't who they thought they were. But once they   
got over the initial anger and began to accept the truth, it seemed maybe a   
visit to the museum might have been the best possible thing for them," I   
reasoned. "Now they've chosen to find names of their own, and decide what   
they want to do with their lives..."  
"So, have they picked out their new names yet?"  
"They've decided upon 'Grex Kassai' and 'Quoia Zol'," I answered,   
stifling a laugh.  
"Yeah, they _would_ have to choose names like that, wouldn't they?"  
"Excuse me, my T'sentrati's still a little shaky," Tracey   
interrupted. "What's so funny about those names?"   
"They aren't 'real' T'sentrati names, Tracey," Quelt'san explained   
in his imperfect English. " 'Grex Kassai' is 'all-consuming fire', and   
'Quoia Zol' is 'supreme goddess'. Probably the names were meant to imply   
they're somehow better than we are."  
"Can you believe the _nerve?_" I exclaimed, giving in to laughter.  
"I tried to talk them into using real T'sentrati names but of course they   
wouldn't hear of it."  
"They're _entitled,_ Naia," Quelt'san teased. "They _are_ clones of   
the great Khyron and Azonia..."  
Without looking up from her colouring page, Verran wondered, "What's   
a 'clone?' "  
"I know, Verran," volunteered her older brother Zak. "I learned all  
about it in school. Clones are like those dinosaurs that live in the   
jungle. It means somebody made them in a lab."  
"Somebody made _people_ in a lab?" Verran was incredulous.  
Kaeisuan reminded her, "Grammum and Granda are clones."  
"They _are?_ But I thought they was just aliens..."  
Tracey scolded, "Verran, that's not a nice thing to say about your   
grandparents."  
"It's okay, Tracey," Quelt'san said calmly. "We _are_ aliens."  
Zak asked excitedly, "Am I a alien?"   
"_Who said you're an alien?_" Tracey demanded.   
"Well, I got blue skin, don't I?" he indicated his own azure-  
complexioned face. "People don't got blue skin. Just aliens do."  
"No, Zak, you aren't exactly an 'alien'," Kaeisuan told him.   
"Neither am I. You and I were born out of our mommies' bellies here on   
Earth. Grammum and Granda are aliens 'cause they came from outer space.   
I'm T'sentrati 'cause my parents are, but technically I'm not an alien since   
I was born on Earth."  
Tracey added, "And you know I'm a human being, so you and your  
sisters are only half-T'sentrati. Don't worry, Zak. You're not an alien."  
"I wish I was," he lamented. "That'd be really neat. Granda,   
what's it feel like to be a alien?"  
"Well, I wasn't an 'alien' until I came to Earth," Quelt'san replied   
with a mischievous grin. "To me, you Earth people are the 'aliens.' "  
I nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. "Stop it, Quelt'san.   
You're going to confuse him." Then to Zak I tried to explain, " 'Alien'   
just means 'foreign'. The same way we're aliens here because we aren't from  
Earth, Earth people are alien to us because they are." _Hmmm... not such a   
good explanation..._ "Understand?"  
"I guess so," Zak said, still sounding uncertain. "Does that mean I  
_am_ a alien, sort of?"  
I glared at Quelt'san, who smiled fiendishly. "See what you've   
done?" Having never been good at explanations, I gave up and agreed,   
"Okay, Zak, you can be an alien, but only to other aliens like Granda and   
me, okay?"  
"Okay," he agreed at last. "I guess that'll have to do..."  
Verran asked, "How come you were made in a lab instead of born like   
we were?"  
"To make us cheap and expendable," Quelt'san replied frankly. "The   
Masters made us specially to fight wars for them."  
"War?" repeated Verran. "Oh, that's not good."  
"No, it isn't," he conceded, "but it was what we lived for." He   
sighed wistfully. "Sometimes I really miss combat..."  
"Fighting ferociously to the death," I intoned, "triumphing over   
insurmountable odds, living only for the thrill of battle, free to simply   
throw one's life away  
"For the greater glory of the T'sentrati people," we said   
together, clasping hands and gazing lovingly into one another's eyes.  
Tracey observed, "It almost sounds to me as if you _like_ fighting   
in wars or something..."  
In an almost apologetic tone, Quelt'san admitted, "Yes, I admit, I   
do enjoy combat. That is the T'sentrati way." The children looked up with   
saucer eyes, and I watched with delight as he squirmed uncomfortably in his   
seat. "But I learned to resist the urges. I still enjoy combat, but I   
don't feel as much that I have to fight anymore."  
"You think shooting people is _fun?_" Verran was distraught.  
"Er, no, not 'fun', really..." he replied. "I don't know the words   
to explain it... Not 'fun', just... Well, we were programmed to like to   
fight, Verran. I know it's not nice, but it's just the way we are."  
"That's so sad."  
"Not really," Quelt'san answered with an indifferent shrug.  
"Well, then, I'm glad I'm not a real T'sentrati," the little girl   
opined.  
I was about to take exception to that, but Kaeisuan quickly changed   
the subject. "Um, you know, you've been telling us about those clones for   
over a week now, Mom. When do we finally get to meet them?"  
Hesitantly, I replied, "Soon, Kaeisuan. I just want to be sure it's   
safe first..."  
"You think they might be dangerous?"  
"I don't know, really. They seem nice enough so far, but..."  
"Have they given you some reason to think they might not be what   
they seem?"  
"I just have kind of an uneasy feeling about those two," I replied.   
"And until I know for sure, I'm not going to take any chances with my   
family's safety."  
  
  
  
©1996-1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Written originally in script  
form, changed to narrative a bit later. My apologies for all the material  
left out in the switch to first-person narrative. Illegal T'sentrati words   
were removed when the change to narrative occurred, but replaced for  
electronic use. Robotech and all borrowed ideas (and basis for the clones'  
characters) are trademarked by Harmony Gold. Again I am not trying to  
infringe on any trademarks or copyrights, or profit from anyone else's  
ideas.  
  



	3. Dreams

Send In the Clones  
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Three: Dreams  
  
Watching him sleeping so peacefully, I found it hard to believe I   
had once actively disliked this man. How could I not have known what a   
completely wonderful person he is? Of course, he _was_ only a Malcontent at   
the time, and I was just a cocky, headstrong journalist in pursuit of my   
next big story. I suppose he's really changed a lot since then...  
"Par dessu, Naia," Quelt'san said, smiling drowsily, as he began to   
stir.  
"Par dessu, my conquest," I replied, leaning over to kiss him good   
morning. "Did you have a pleasant sleep?"  
He yawned and stretched in a way I found adorable. "Oh, quite so.   
I dreamt about a glorious battle, and you and I were fighting side-by-side,  
crafted in some of the most beautiful, most qantao mecha you could   
imagine..."  
"I've always wanted to go into battle with you by my side," I   
interrupted.  
"So have I."  
"Did we win?"  
"Not decisively," he admitted. "But we did fight courageously, and   
were able to repel the invaders and save the kingdom once again from the   
tyranny of the evil King Lokar..."  
I laughed a little, and saw him blush at that.  
"So how was your sleep?"  
"Lovely," I replied contentedly, settling into his arms. "I had a   
naughty dream about you last night..."  
"Oh?"  
"Usai! It involved a quiet cargo hold, a raging space battle, a  
giant tuna..."  
"A giant tuna?"  
I explained, "Floating around in space, of course. What'd you   
expect?"  
"In your dreams?" he quipped, "Who knows?"  
"What, so now you don't like my dreams?"  
"Let's just start this over..." Quelt'san proposed, hoping to defuse   
the situation before an argument ensued. " 'Par dessu, Naia. Did you have   
a good sleep?' "  
"Yes, very," I replied in a singsong way. "I had a naughty dream  
about you last night, Quelt'san."  
"Huonta?" he said, suppressing a laugh. "Gee, I hope there was a  
giant space tuna in it."  
"Why yes, there was. How did you know?"  
"I was hoping there would be. You _know_ how I feel about space   
tuna, don't you?"  
"No, how?" I asked cautiously, not knowing what to expect.  
"Only that it's the best _aphrodisiac_ there is," he teased.  
I couldn't help laughing at that.  
"See, now, isn't that better?" he said cheerfully. Then casually   
asked, "So you're going to be talking with Grex today?"  
"Why? Are you jealous?"  
"Jealous?" he repeated. "Me? Of course not... He's only a clone,  
after all..."  
"You say that a lot lately," I noticed, choosing not to remind him  
again how he was as much a clone as Grex. "Don't worry, my conquest, you  
know no-one else will ever take your place in my heart..."  
  
"To be in love/ must be the sweetest feeling that a girl can   
feel..." I saw Grex wince as the music started.  
"Deng yar!" he shouted. "Don't _ever_ play that song in my presence   
again. It brings back some rather unpleasant memories for me."  
Just testing... Obligingly I took out that CD and put in something   
more pleasant.  
He observed, "This isn't a language I understand... Can you explain  
the words?"  
"I, um, I really don't know," I lied, preferring not to recite the   
translation.  
"...Souyo watashiwa detaramade, kimagurede, namaikide... wagamamade,   
zeitakude, kidoriyade... usotsukide, ayafuyade, iikagen..."  
"Let's talk about the first two years following the Rain," I  
suggested, "when Khyron was seemingly nowhere to be found. I want you to   
tell me where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking and feeling...  
everything."  
"What a jueqon-daeire question," Grex said with a frown. "I  
expected so much more from you... But if you really must know, Khyron was   
in Alaska at that time, his ship buried under ice and snow. I thought you  
knew that already, Naia, especially with all the research you've done... As  
for what he was doing there, he was waiting for the proper time to _attack,_   
naturally... The days and nights started to run together after a while, and   
it became hard to know how much time had passed. For two years their only  
contact with the outside world was through reports delivered by spies...   
Not a very pleasant existence, you know. It was only _her_ company that  
made the wait tolerable..."  
I leaned in interestedly, eager to hear more. But Grex stopped   
there, turning off the tape recorder.  
"I think I've said too much already," he explained.  
I suggested, "Maybe you should take a break. We can continue this   
later."  
"Perhaps," he agreed, seeming to immerse himself in thought. After   
a while he asked, "You said there is no more protoculture anywhere in the   
quadrant... but what about that naturally present in the systems of the   
T'sentrati?"  
"That protoculture is still in our systems, but no, that does not   
mean that we are still capable of returning to full size."  
"You have a sizing chamber..."  
"Kerosan, and has no source of power," I told him. "I don't know  
why you're even bothering with these questions, Grex. You couldn't size up  
even if the chamber _were_ functional. There isn't any protoculture in your  
systems."  
"What?!"  
"Nope, sorry, not a drop," I said with a certain amount of pleasure.  
"The Invid carried away all the protoculture fifteen years ago. Physically  
and genetically, you are T'sentrati, but were grown here on Earth in a   
Neogenics lab over the course of about five years."  
He complained, "Well, I can't very well remain this size forever..."  
"I'm afraid you're going to have to," I replied curtly. "So deal  
with it. I'm sure you've had more than enough of a break by now, so what   
say we get on with the interview, shall we?" I reached to turn the recorder   
back on. "Now, what was it you were saying about the wait?"  
  
  
  
©1996-1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Written originally in script  
form, changed to narrative a bit later. My apologies for all the material  
left out in the switch to first-person narrative. Illegal T'sentrati words   
were removed when the change to narrative occurred, but replaced for  
electronic use. Some new ones added to this one, probably to become a  
common event in future parts too! Robotech and all borrowed ideas (and  
basis for the clones' characters) are trademarked by Harmony Gold. Again I  
am not trying to infringe on any trademarks or copyrights, or profit from  
anyone else's ideas. 


	4. Immortality

Send In the Clones   
by Naia Zifu  
  
Chapter Four: Immortality  
  
Although physically I was sitting in my office trying to conduct an  
interview with Quoia, my mind was drifting ever further away. I was t'surai  
to be recording her words, as I seemed to be having a little trouble   
focusing on them myself.  
"...then, suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed the reporter  
as she sat so rudely _daydreaming_ during her interview," I barely heard,  
and snapped back to reality.  
"What?"  
"You weren't paying attention," she said, annoyed.  
I felt my face flush, and apologised for my inattention. "I guess  
my mind was somewhere else," I explained. "Please, continue. I promise it  
won't happen again."  
"I don't know what sparked the changes in Khyron and Azonia," she  
began, "how their attitudes toward one another reversed so quickly... Maybe  
it was just the isolation, maybe kiraats-vei, but they started to...   
_experiment_ with micronian pleasures." Quoia lowered her eyes, and blushed  
demurely. "There... was a child..."  
"A child?" That was something I'd never heard before. "What  
happened to it?"  
"He was just so small, so vulnerable. They'd never had experience  
with children before. He died a few days after his birth."  
"Toiisa," I said. "I didn't know."  
"Most didn't."  
Silence. Neither of us looked at the other. I could hear the  
ticking of the clock, the turning mechanisms of the tape recorder, the  
sounds of breathing, my own stomach reminding me I'd missed breakfast...  
Finally she said, "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. That was a  
different time, a different person."  
"Is that how you feel?"  
"I feel... as if it happened to me, just a few months ago," she  
answered. "The child's name was Clozan. He was so... What is the word the  
micronians use? 'Cute, ' So much like a tiny Khyron. They both were so  
proud-- Khyron said Clozan would be his immortality. When the baby died,  
part of him did, too. He was never the same after that. He became all the  
more obsessed with his 'mission', with destroying Zor's fortress. He  
started using the Flowers more heavily. He stopped paying as much attention  
to my... I mean _Azonia's_ needs... It was like he blamed her for Clozan's  
death..."  
"It's very hard to care for small children. And they'd had no  
previous experience with that. Maybe with the right parenting training and  
medical care he might have lived, but as it was, there was nothing you... I  
mean, _they,_ could have done..."  
"Doesn't make me feel any less guilty," she lamented.  
There was another moment of uncomfortable silence. I stared down at  
the desk, running my fingers over the Japanese symbols-- names of favourite  
anime characters-- I'd scratched into its surface when I was bored or  
blocked.  
"You have a family, Naia?" she asked, making it sound more like a  
statement.  
I hesitated, debating whether it was safe to trust her yet. But  
since she had told me about Clozan... I picked up the family portrait from  
the corner of my desk and wiped the baby fingerprints off from Dhan's last  
visit.  
"Here is my... husband, Quelt'san," I began.  
"That Botoru man I always see you with? I'd thought he was just  
quorayin."  
"He's multi-talented," I replied with a smile. "Here is our son,  
Kaeisuan, with his wife Tracey..."  
"A micronian?"  
"You get used to it," I said with a shrug. "These are their  
children, Zak, Verran, and little Dhan."  
"She's cute."  
"Tokko," I said proudly. "I think she gets it from me."  
"And this girl?" Quoia pointed to the petite teen-ager in the  
Cannibal Fish tank top, with blue-black hair cut short in back but long  
enough at the front to cover her eyes if not held back in clips, skeleton  
earrings, and retro-60s cat-eye glasses.  
"My daughter, Nemesis," I replied.  
"You sound disappointed."  
"Did I? I didn't mean to. Nemesis is a lovely girl, very smart in  
school..."  
"But?"  
I laughed a little. "She's rebellious, strong-willed, opinionated...  
just like her mother."  
"And just as hard to control," Quoia said with a smirk. "Karei."  
The door opened without warning, startling us both. My family knew  
I was not to be bothered during work hours except for kalidar, and never  
without knocking.  
"Nemesis," Quoia said, smiling in a peculiar way. "Your mother was  
just telling me about you."  
She paused in the doorway and stared at Quoia with saucer eyes.  
"Damn," she said. "You really do look like Azonia..."  
I rushed my daughter out into the hall, calling that I'd be back in  
a moment, and made sure to close the door behind us.  
"Don't ever barge in during work like that again," I scolded. "This  
had better be onnaii, Nemesis."  
"Nah, I just did it to see your reaction," she said sarcastically,  
rolling her eyes. "_Of course_ it's onnaii. There's a riot going on  
downtown. A bunch of T'sentrati are running around beating up on the humans.  
Personally, I'd say, let 'em have 'em, except I'm afraid they're headed  
toward my brother's part of town..."  
  
  
©1996-1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Written originally in script  
form, changed to narrative a bit later. My apologies for all the material  
left out in the switch to first-person narrative. Illegal T'sentrati words   
were removed when the change to narrative occurred, but replaced for  
electronic use. Some new ones added to this one, probably to become a  
common event in future parts too! Robotech and all borrowed ideas (and  
basis for the clones' characters) are trademarked by Harmony Gold. Again I  
am not trying to infringe on any trademarks or copyrights, or profit from  
anyone else's ideas. 


End file.
